


Empty Walls

by Heikethelen



Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Child Loss, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, It's going to be a bumpy ride, Modeling, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2019-02-07 21:21:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12849753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heikethelen/pseuds/Heikethelen
Summary: Claire Beauchamp is a successful fashion model who lost herself along the way to fame. Endless parties and meaningless relationship do nothing to fulfill her life that has become daunting.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone ! I am aware that both characters are quite OCC at the moment, but as the story develops, so will their personalities. This story is going to be pretty Claire centric, but has been inspired by people I have met, and also somethings I have been through. This is why this story is very personal :) It's going to be dealing with some pretty heavy stuff, so you're being warned. Disclaimer : I know the beginning is pretty vague, but see it as a prologue.

New York, 2007. 

The music is so loud, I can feel it pulsing in my veins. Before I started any of this, I was never one to go out much. But over the years, it’s the thing that kept me sane. That, and other more questionable things. 

Going out is as much of a part of being a model then walking down the runway. It’s what we do best. But it’s just for show. And also maybe because we don’t have anything else to do. Being a model doesn’t end when we get off the runaway, it chases you everywhere. I guess it's both easy and hard. Beautiful and dangerous.

Co-workers are rivals, but you also long for them to be your friends. Sometimes they are, but never for too long. It’s both lonely and crowded. You don’t really speak; you portray an image. The outside is so important; it messes with your head.

I actually never even planned on being a fucking model. It just happened.

‘’ Claire, I am going outside, fancy a smoke? ‘’ 

I don’t even bother with an answer, I just follow her into the night. Being outside somehow puts my mind at rest. 

There is something oddly peaceful about smoking under the stars. It clears my mind. I would prefer to be alone, but the outside of the club seems to be as crowded as the inside of it. 

'' Listen lad, you ken it makes no sense '' 

Somehow, throughout the shouting and nonsense surrounding me, this conversation manages to take me out of my reverie. Perhaps it is the vague feeling of home that makes me want to join their conversation. I am no stranger to Scotland. In fact, that’s where I lived for most of my life with my uncle. I quickly scan the crowd for the source of the banter. Two men. Both of them very Scottish and out of place.

'' Claire are you listening to anything I am saying? '' 

I had been so enthralled by the tall scots next to me, that I had completely forgotten about Ava. Or was it Eva?

'' Sorry '' I place a careful hand on her forearm, and her only reaction is to roll her eyes at me. She probably knows I don’t really mean it then. She blows the last smoke of her cigarette in my face, and rushes back inside. 

And here I am, back to being inexplicably drawn to the voice of the man next to me. 

When I got thrown into the fashion industry, I had to learn how to compartmentalized my emotions, my beliefs. I almost created this new person. Flirting was almost a part of the job now, something I was strangely never good at before. And right now, I felt like the shy nineteen years old I was when I left England for the States. It both scares me and comforts me. 

With a newfound determination, I make my way towards them wishing I’ll find something normal to say.

'' Hello I couldn’t help but notice your accent ''

Jesus

The tall redheaded Scott looks at me like I somehow just dropped out of the clear blue sky. Which in a way, I guess did. 

'' Seems you have one too Sassenach ''

An accent. His smile instantly puts me at ease, and I give him an hint of mine. 

'' I am Jamie. And this is my cousin Rupert '' 

'' Claire ''

And just like that, we begin a conversation. I hardly speak, allowing him to tell me all about himself - I learn that he is from a small town near Inverness, but lives in Edinburgh. He is only visiting his cousin in New-York for a couple of weeks. He also tells me about his dream of one day becoming a well-recognized artist. I also tell him the plain details about my life, which he somehow seems to find genuinely interesting. At some point in the conversation, Rupert excuses himself and goes back inside.

'' What are you doing in New-York? ''

'' I am actually here for work. I am a model '' 

His facial expression barely changes, and I am extremely grateful. Usually, people are either incredibly intimated or suddenly looking like me like I am some sort of goddess that should be treated differently. I am no goddess. He only gives me a peaceful smile. 

'' Aye, well you are a bonny lass indeed ''

And I fucking blush. Since when do I even blush after compliments? 

I am taken out of my thoughts when I feel his hand on mine. The touch is so startling and delicate, I am not sure how to respond. I know it’s an invitation for something, but it feels like so much more. A request for permission for a gesture more grand, more significant; In a rush of unexplained feelings, I grab his hand tighter, and lace our fingers together. 

I don’t think I ever held a hand in such a way before. 

'' I like you '' 

The words are whispered against my neck, followed by a series if delicate kisses on my neck and cheeks. For a second I am petrified. I don’t know what to say, how to act. How do I not screw this up? I am stunned by his behavior, by him… can he even be real? I can't remember a time in which a guy was genuinely interested in me, not what I had to offer physically. I haven’t received a kiss on the cheek in years. Hungry, possessive ones to my mouth, my throat, my breasts, but not something so innocent as what Jamie had given me.

I should tell him that I like too, that he oddly makes me feel calm and safe. But I don’t know how to be tender.

'' Come at my place ''

The look he gives me is one of wonder and maybe some hidden fear as well. 

'' You’re not going to regret this in the morning, right? ''

His question surprises me. Was I going to regret this? A part of me knew that I never could, and the only regrets would come from ignoring whatever was between us. But then I also know that whatever this is could never work. Because I am fucked up, because he lives in Scotland, and because I technically have no home. So yes then, I would probably regret having a taste of what happiness only to probably ruin it in the morning. 

So I leave.


	2. Victoria

'' Goddamn it Claire focus! Where is your fucking mind at? ''

Frank Randall.

I met Frank about eight years ago, when I first started modeling. Or when I was doing nothing to be exact. He’s the one who offered me a chance to move to Paris and become someone has he said. Uncle Lamb had recently just died, and I felt completely rootless. Frank just approached me in a coffee house, bluntly told me about everything I could have, and basically said that I would be a bloody fool for refusing such a wonderful opportunity. 

No one cared that I had just started my studies as a nurse. And because I did not know who I was without uncle Lamb, I took at a chance at the unknown. 

For most of my life with my uncle, we traveled. We rarely stayed at the same place for a long time. And although I was longing for a physical home, I loved discovering new places and new people. I would quickly become restless if our life was too routine like. So maybe that is always a part of the reason why moving to Paris appealed to me way more then being a model ever did. 

Anyways. 

Today is apparently one of the most important shoot of my life. Probably going to determine if I’ll make it to the very famous Victoria Secret show or not. Whether you love being a model or not, the VS show is the epitome of any models career. I have to admit, even I want it. 

But I can’t take my thoughts away from Jamie Fraser, and how much of a coward I am. 

'' Claire! ''

'' Sorry, I have a headache ''

Before I can even realize it, Frank is standing next to me and directing me in the corner of the room. 

'' What’s wrong? '' Always a sarcastic one. I know he only wants one answer from me. He doesn’t even want to know what’s going on inside my head or how I feel. I don’t think he could even care less. He just likes telling people that I am his. That I belong to him. Like an object, a product.

'' Nothing ''

He tightens his grip on my arms, and gives me a little shake. 

'' Do you think I am an idiot? We’ve been talking about this shoot for month and you look like you’re going to drop at any seconds '' 

I scoff at him and give him my best act of being unfazed. Because I can’t even seem to convince myself though, I am not sure he would buy my little act.

'' Red ain’t your colour Claire '' he said, mockery evident in his voice. He walks back towards the crowd and I know it would be in mu outmost interest to get it together.

I quickly swallow my tears and walk back on my mark with what I think is a confident posture.

'' Ok she’s ready ''

And I get the job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small chapter I know, but necessary to the story :)


End file.
